


The Abduction That Saved Me

by abbily1428



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 05:32:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbily1428/pseuds/abbily1428
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eponine Thenardier has spent her entire life in the streets of Paris. When she is 17, she is kidnapped and sold to a man in a foreign country. What happens when the man understands more than she thinks he does? EponineXEnjolras Noncanon</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

London 1836

It was good for a while. Papa was kind to me. He would leave me at home with one of the whores from the tavern whenever he had to work. He would come home and pick me up, twirling me around and kissing my cheek, calling me his little princess. I didn't know what he did for a living, or what he did to people, or at least, I didn't until later. Papa started gambling when I was 11. He would go out with his drinking buddies and come home wasted, then go out to the dog fights and waste all the rest of his money. At first it was okay. The tavern was doing fairly well, so Papa could pay back his debts on time. But then, his debts got bigger. He couldn't pay them back. He tried everything. Stealing, pimping, selling things. But it wasn't enough. Madame Marvella, the owner of the local brothel, suggested he use me. She told him that men would pay through the nose for a fresh, young peach, and I suppose he agreed. By this point, he didn't care anymore about me. All he cared about was money.

When I turned 12, Papa started selling me to clients. At first, it was nice. The men would buy me pretty dresses and ribbons and dolls, and they would pay me compliments. But that only lasted a short while. By the time I was 13, the touching had begun, along with...other things. I resisted at first. I even bit a man, but when Papa found out, he was livid. He told me I should be grateful that the men would want to pay me for my services, because it was the only way I wouldn't starve to death. Papa beat me for the first time that night. I had dark bruises along my collar bone and rib cage, and cuts where Papa had beaten my with an empty absinthe bottle. I had cried, but he had only beaten me more. He told me that I had to be strong, because no one would pay for a weak little china doll. I stopped crying.

I quickly learned how to fake it. I would fake a smile, fake a laugh, fake a moan. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine I was somewhere else. Somewhere warm and dry, where I didn't have to sell myself to pay for the food on the table, and I didn't have to pay Papa's gambling debts.

As a prostitute, which in reality is what I was, you must learn to read people. You must know what they want. Typically, the men who bought me were young sailors coming off of a 7-month stint out at sea, or old friends of my father's. As I got older, though, the men stopped being gentle. They would beat me and make me do the most degrading things. I suppose it was their way of getting out the anger they had so they wouldn't have to take it out on their wives. I would come home with bruises and a bleeding lip, and once two broken ribs, but Papa didn't care. As long as he got his money, he was happy.

I didn't work on Sundays. Papa said that Sundays were God's days. Sometimes, a traveling minister would come and hold a service. Papa and I would go. Papa said he was praying for Maman up in Heaven. I would pray that God would kill me, too, so I could be with Maman instead of here. When what happened finally happened, I thought it was God answering my prayer. And I guess, in a way, He was.


	2. Chapter 2

Paris 1818

The girl sat on a stool in the tavern, sipping ale out of a wooden mug, her blue eyes flashing as she surveyed the room. There was an older man in the corner with a new pouch of coins that he had been gambling away all night, but he was far too drunk to want her services. A man sitting at the bar looked sober enough, but she could tell he had bought the drink he was carefully sipping with his last franc, leaving none for her to take in exchange. Ah, there. A young sailor in his mid-20's was sitting at a table in the corner with a group of what looked like university students. He had a full leather pouch on his belt and looked as though he hadn't seen solid ground in months. Perfect. She took one last swig of her ale and hopped off the stool. She smoothed down her skirt and her long brown hair, attempting to look as alluring as possible. She began to saunter towards the table, but a hand on her arm stopped her.

"And just what are you doing, girl?" an older man sneered at her. She could smell the fumes of alcohol coming off of him in waves.

"Working, Papa," she replied, gesturing to the sailor.

"Not tonight," he smiled, showing disgusting teeth, blackened and decayed with years of uncleanliness. "Monsieur Anton has called for you."

She grimaced, closing her eyes. "Where?"

"The docks. His ship will be waiting." he gripped her arm tighter. "And be quick about it. He won't wait long."

"Yes, Papa," she shook her arm out of his grip and hurried out of the tavern, headed toward the docks.

The docks were busy tonight. She greeted several of the woman working there, careful to keep her conversations short. A too-long discussion would mean money loss and beatings for them all. Monsieur Anton's ship was tied at the end of the first dock. Although the man was extremely wealthy, he only ever brought one ship to Paris. The doors were closed, but a lantern was lit and she could see shadows moving inside.

As she approached the ship, the waterfront grew quiet. She slowed; this was never a good sign. She looked around, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Still, she was cautious. she went up the gangplank and knocked on the door of the cabin, alerting whoever was inside of her presence. The shadows stopped moving.

"Who is there?" a voice called.

"It is me," she replied.

She heard a shuffling. The lantern was put out. She warily began backing down the gangplank. She didn't like this. It didn't feel right. The door swung open and a shadow flew out of it, hitting her square in the chest. She fell. A cloth was clamped over her nose and mouth. She fought as hard as she could, kicking and scratching at her attacker. She heard a soft groan of pain as her foot collided with the assailant before her world went black.


	3. Chapter 3

The girl woke up on something hard and cold. She could feel her wrists and ankles tied together and a strip of cloth over her mouth. As her vision cleared, she could barely make out that she was in a small cabin room, with a grimy mattress in one corner and a small table in another. She rolled onto her stomach, wincing as her body protested. Her head was pounding and every inch of her body felt like she had been trampled by a horse. The floor was rocking slightly, or maybe that was due to her headache, she wasn't sure. She gritted her teeth and pushed herself up so that she was sitting upright against one wall of the room. Her mind was foggy. She was struggling just to keep her eyes open.

She heard voices through the wall behind her. They sounded like two men, but it was in a language foreign to her. From their tone, she could tell that they were arguing...or haggling? She jumped as the door burst open, letting in streams of too-bright light. A figure stood in the door. She tried to focus her eyes and saw that it was Monsieur Anton. She tried to speak, but he stopped her.

"Shut up, girl," he snarled in his strange accent. He threw a sack onto a table which clinked as though it held coins and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Come on."

He shoved her through the door, causing her to fall onto the floor. She closed her eyes tightly as she landed on her shoulder, a million knives of pain shooting up her arm and back. A man cleared his throat behind her.

"I am sure everything is in order, Anton," he said, his French stilted.

"Yes, Monsieur," the huge man said smoothly. "She is yours now."

The man shouted to someone in that same alien language she heard before. She tried to look up, her head hammering, and the man knelt next to her, looking at her with concern. She squinted. He was handsome, if a bit older than her. He had medium length dirty blonde hair and kind blue eyes.

"Wait, Anton," he demanded, still looking at her. "Take off her shackles."

She could practically feel Anton's questioning stare. "What, monsieur?"

"Take off her shackles."

"But, monsieur-"

"No, Anton. Take them off. Now."

"She will run."

The man looked up. "She is in a foreign country where she has no connections and no money. Where will she go?"

She closed her eyes in pain. She had suspected as much. Anton quickly cut her bindings. She sat up and rubbed her ankles and wrists, rolling them to get out the kinks. The man took her elbow gently, causing her to look at him.

"Come with me."

As the man led her to a carriage, she looked around. This wasn't familiar to her at all. There were dilapidated buildings everywhere, and her plain bodice and dress looked almost decent compared to some of the girls sitting on the edge of the street.

The carriage pulled away in a flurry of hoofbeats and wheels. She looked up to find the man looking at her intently.

"What's your name, girl?" he asked gently.

"Eponine Thenardier."

"I am Aidan Enjolras."

Eponine paused, "What do you expect me to do for you?"

Monsieur Enjolras' eyes widened slightly. "Nothing, of course."

"Then why did you buy me?"

He was silent for a long time. "I don't know."

Eponine stared at him, questioning. "I don't know what you expect of me, Monsieur. You must tell me."

"I don't expect anything from you, Mademoiselle Thenardier."

Eponine stared at him for a moment. No one had ever called her Mademoiselle. Ever.

"We are here, Monsieur," an elderly man called from the front of the carriage.

"Mademoiselle, you must understand," Monsieur Enjolras said quietly before jumping out of the carriage. "I want nothing but the best for you. I will not harm you."

That was the one thing she didn't understand.


	4. Chapter 4

Eponine jerked awake. She must have fallen asleep in a client's home. She had to leave. Now. She paused, allowing her eyes, and her other senses, to adjust to her surroundings. The bed she was currently in was soft and warm, with two comfortable pillows and a heavy comforter covering the plain cotton sheets. The room was by no means small, but still cozy. Eponine looked down, feeling odd. Her nightgown. Or, well, the fact that she was wearing a nightgown. It was very soft, and warmer than any dress she had owned since she was a child.

A knock on the door startled her.

"Who is it?" she called hesitantly.

"It is Claire, mademoiselle," answered a chirpy voice. "I have your breakfast."

"Oh, um," Eponine stuttered. "Come in, then."

A woman with neat, graying hair and a kind smile bounced into the room.

"How are you, dear?" she asked warmly, setting the tray she was carrying on a table across from the bed. "I do apologize. My French is quite rusty. I haven't used it since I was a married to Monsieur Allard, and that was more than ten years ago, if memory serves. Only married for three years before he died but it was a lovely three years, that. Would you like some sugar in your tea?"

Eponine only stared at her.

"I suppose not, then. You took a right fall, as well, you were asleep for quite awhile - three days! That bruise on your ribcage was looking pretty nasty, as well as the ones on your hips. I saw them the other night when I put you in your sleeping costume. Poor thing. You must be as clumsy as my Devon. When he comes home from university, he's always covered in cuts and bruises. Loves to race horses, you know," the woman paused in her speech, handing Eponine the small teacup. "Why, whatever is the matter, dear?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand."

"Understand what, dear?"

"Why you are here. Am I not working for Monsieur Enjolras? Am I working for you instead?"

The woman chuckled. "No, dear. I work for Monsieur Enjolras, as well. I'm the housekeeper. Monsieur had to go to one of the factories today to sort out a little issue with one of the workers."

"Oh."

"Now, come along, dear, eat and get dressed," she tittered, pulling out a dress from one of two armoires in the room. "We have a busy day today."

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh, don't be," she smiled humorously, "I think we shall have a marvelous time."

As it turned out, they did have quite a busy day. In the morning, Madame Claire taught her how to clean the fine china dishes and how to prepare the soft white bread of which Monsieur Enjolras was so fond.

Madame Claire had decided that they would go into town while the dough was rising, so she brushed through and braided Eponine's long dark tresses into a style that was both convenient and comfortable. She ordered Eponine into the washroom, telling her to scrub her face and neck, and also behind her ears. Eponine was astonished at how much dirt she had accumulated in the past few weeks since she'd had a bath. Madame Claire smiled wide as soon as Eponine stepped out of the washroom, declaring "what an enchanting and beautiful girl." Eponine blushed. She couldn't help but love Madame Claire. The woman was just so delightful to be around, and simply gushed about everything, the flowers, the trees, how the wheat crop was doing.

They stopped at least four times on the short walk to the town to visit with neighbors. Madame Claire insisted on checking on an elderly woman who was confined to her bed, and on a young mother who had just given birth for the first time. She was so lovely; just the woman Eponine would have wanted in a mother.

They strolled through the village streets. Eponine twitched at every little sound. Street urchins aren't used to being safe somewhere, or even wearing shoes, for that matter. They stopped by a dress shop and a bakery, ending their journey at a large warehouse towards the outskirts of the town.

"Monsieur Enjolras should still be here," Madame Claire chirped. "We can just walk back with him."

Eponine nodded, not saying a word. She hadn't really said anything all afternoon, choosing instead to observe and listen to Madame Claire prattle on about silly little things.

Monsieur Enjolras was in his office. As Eponine trailed behind Madame Claire up the stairs, she heard the familiar sound of shouting coming from the small room. She braced herself.

"Monsieur!" Madame Claire shouted as she knocked on the door. "Monsieur Enjolras!"

"I'm coming!" he shouted from inside. He opened the door, looking tired and worn. Eponine almost felt sorry for him. "Oh, hello, Madame Claire. I see you've brought Mademoiselle Thenardier."

"Indeed. We have been enjoying the afternoon in town and were wondering if you would care to accompany us home."

"I would be delighted. If you would just wait a few moments? I have something to take care of, first."

Madame Claire nodded, taking one of three chairs sitting by the door. "Do sit down, dear," she said quietly to Eponine.

The girl complied, silently wondering what on earth she was doing.


	5. Chapter 5

They had walked home in relative silence; the only sound that of their footsteps on the dirt road. Eponine didn't mind. She never talked when he spoke to her anyway. There was something odd about him. He would sneak her sideways glances and offer his arm to help her and Madame Claire across potholes or puddles. He always addressed her as "mademoiselle" and never said anything untoward. It was as if he wasn't a man to begin with.

They arrived at the cottage, though it could barely be called a cottage - it was more of an estate, when it was nearly dark. Madame Claire went straight for the kitchen, with Eponine close by. She was determined to earn her stay. She didn't want to owe anyone, especially Monsieur Enjolras, anything.

Eponine helped Madame Claire prepare the meal. Madame Claire had carried a tray to Monsieur Enjolras in his study, and come to dine with her in the large dining room adjoining the kitchen. There were five courses: a salad, a fish dish, a soup, the main course, and then dessert. Eponine thought she was in Heaven. She was nearly full by the time the main course came around, but wouldn't dare denying food. It was too precious to turn down.

She remembered when she went hungry for the first time. The memory was so clear, she could almost smell it. She was 11. Papa had been gone for three days on a "business trip". The pantry had long been clean of anything resembling food. Madame Marvella had sent one of her girls to bring her something, but the girl had eaten the small bowl of pork before she had even arrived. Eponine had been faint, her stomach curling up in knots and pain shooting up her ribcage. Luckily, Papa had returned the next day with two large sackfuls of bread, cheese and dried meat.

Papa had gone on a lot of "business trips" that year. Before he started selling her to clients, he would disappear for weeks at a time. Eponine quickly learned how to make her meager portions last and she became quite proficient at stealing bread from the day-old bin at the market. She didn't do it often, only when she had absolutely no other option. She still resented her father for forcing her to experience that. She couldn't help but think that if her mother were still alive...no. She couldn't let her thoughts wander there.

Madame Claire cleared the table and did dishes as Eponine prepared for bed. She was still unused to changing clothes before sleeping. Back home, you wore your clothes to bed if you didn't want them to be stolen. After changing into her nightgown, she picked up the wooden hairbrush and began pulling it through her tresses. She sighed. She loved running the brush through her hair. It made her scalp tingle and made her feel clean...normal. When she finished, she washed her face and climbed into bed, preparing to blow out the candle when she heard a loud scream.


	6. Chapter 6

Eponine bolted out of the room. Screams were never good, even to a bourgeois man like Monsieur Enjolras. She rushed into the library, where Madame Claire was gingerly shaking Monsieur Enjolras. He was trembling and whimpering, eyes closed in sleep. Eponine gently pushed Madame Claire out of the way. She took a glass of water and quickly dumped it over his head. He jerked away, tears pooling in his eyes.

Eponine hugged him tightly. "I'm sorry."

He only sobbed. She knew was the scream was now. He had had a nightmare. And not just any nightmare. A man as strong in heart as Monsieur Enjolras was not about to scream at a monster under the bed. Madame Claire brought a tray and a glass of water.

"Here, Monsieur," she cooed, motioning with the tray. "You forgot your medication."

Still trembling, Monsieur Enjolras took the cup and capsules, popping them into his mouth. Eponine watched carefully. What had happened to him?

Eponine could not sleep for the rest of the night. The poor man was just so troubled. She knew his symptoms well, having seen them, and experienced them, many times. It was often little children that woke with such blood-curdling screams. They usually woke themselves with their noise. Eponine could not help but wonder, what had happened in his childhood that would cause so much pain? Perhaps he had a childhood similar to hers, but probably not. He had obviously been born in the lap of luxury. Maybe he had watched a family member die, or killed someone.

A knock on her bedroom door interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in!" she called softly.

Monsieur Enjolras entered, his dressing gown tied at his waist and two cups of tea in his hands. "Care for some tea?"

Eponine nodded, holding out her hand. He placed the cup carefully in her outstretched palm and retreated to the other side of the room, sitting in the lone chair.

"I am sorry you had to see me like that," he began slowly.

"It is nothing I have not seen before, Monsieur."

"No," he shook his head in agreement. "It is not."

"Monsieur, may I ask-"

"What happened to me?"

"No, monsieur. Why you were in the library?"

"I fell asleep reading, as I often do. The nightmares have come so rarely recently that I thought I could make do without my medication. Alas, that was not the case," he stood, going over to the window. "Eponine, I know you are full of questions, but you don't wish to ask because you're afraid to seem rude, yes?"

"Actually," she shifted her weight. "I thought that it was your business and I didn't need to pry."

He chuckled. "How kind of you. However, I think I would like to tell you."

Eponine nodded, retreating to sit on the bed.

"When I was a child, my father died. My mother didn't know how to manage money by herself and so, we went broke. We lived in a quite large estate that required upkeep and we couldn't keep it anymore, but instead of selling the home, Mother remarried," he closed his eyes, breathing deeply for a moment. "He was a bastard. He drank and gambled and chased women as though it were a sport. But he was wealthy, so Mother permitted it. She told me before she died that it was so I wouldn't have to go out on the streets. However, Mother died when I was ten years old. My step father married a new woman only a month after my mother's death, and they kicked me out. I lived on the streets for three months, foraging for what food I could find and stealing what I couldn't. There was a time I had gone for nearly a week without food. I was so skinny and so hungry. I collapsed on the front porch of a brothel. The owner, a man called Nombreux, took me in and fed me, provided I do little chores for him like sweep or deliver letters," he paused again. "A man came in. He offered Nombreux 1,000 francs to have my...company...for a night."

Eponine stared at him, shock evident in her eyes.

"It didn't stop there. I didn't escape until I was fifteen. I boarded a merchant ship and begged them to let me stay and work. They agreed, and so I spent three years working for them. The owner died, and left the company to me, since he didn't have a son to leave it to. I've been running it, along with a few new enterprises, ever since."

"So," Eponine breathed. "You were just like me?"

"I was just like you."


	7. Chapter 7

Eponine sat in the garden, contemplating her conversation with Monsieur Enjolras. She had thought so horribly of him, but he knew. He knew how it felt to be betrayed by people who were supposed to love you. He knew how it felt to be hungry. He knew how it felt to be beaten. He knew how it felt to have your innocence stolen from you. He knew how it felt to have to lie on your back and take orders from disgusting old men just to be able to eat. He knew.

"Mademoiselle Eponine Thenardier?" a voice broke her from her reverie. "This is for you."

She looked up, a small boy held out an envelope.

"Thank you," she took it. It had no marker to show where it came from, only her name.

She tucked it into her dress pocket, intending to read it after dinner. She walked into the kitchen, greeting Madame Claire and rolling up her sleeves in preparation for dinner.

"Not tonight, dear," Madame Claire chirped. "Monsieur is going to a business dinner in London, and you are going with him."

"Surely Monsieur Enjolras would rather you go with him, Madame Claire," Eponine said, shocked.

"No, Eponine. He specifically told me to help you get ready. But we must hurry, London is quite a ways away by carriage."

Madame Claire dressed Eponine in a beautiful gown. It was far more elaborate than anything she had ever worn before, of that she was certain. It was, as Madame Claire informed her, a white muslin dress with hammered silver foliate diaper-patterned and red silk thread embroidery. Eponine had no clue what that meant, but the fabric felt heavenly against her skin. It had quite a large skirt, making it a bit awkward to walk in, but Madame Claire assured her it would get easier the longer she wore it. The older woman had brushed out Eponine's long hair and tied half of it back with a white ribbon, letting the rest cascade down her back in waves.

The carriage had arrived and Eponine climbed in. The driver informed her that they would go to town to pick up Monsieur Enjolras before they went to London. Eponine nodded, settling back into her seat.

~Aidan Enjolras POV~

She had fallen asleep. It was quite adorable, really. He climbed into the carriage, moving the basket of food Madame Claire had sent so he could sit across from the sleeping woman. He motioned quietly to Henry to move forward.

She hadn't spoken to him since he had told her. That worried him slightly. What did she think? He knew that she was still quite wary of him. It was perfectly understandable. A random man off the street buys her from a sleazy con artist off of a ship. He wouldn't trust himself, either.

Did she even realize? He just couldn't let her stay there. Someone else would have bought her. Someone else would have-he couldn't even think about it.

Eponine shifted in her sleep, cuddling closer to the curtained window. She was lovely, really. A small vanilla-colored object fell to the floor. Enjolras furrowed his brow, reaching down to retrieve it for her. It was a letter, addressed to her. The seal had flaked off when it fell. It was written very badly, with ink spills everywhere, as if written by someone with very little education.

Eponine,

Did you think you could get away from me? I will be coming your way shortly for a visit with you and your Monsieur. x


	8. Chapter 8

Eponine awoke to a hand gently shaking her shoulder. She mumbled something and turned away from the offending appendage, pressing her face into the cold glass of the carriage. Wait, carriage? She groggily opened her eyes to see the attentive face of Monsieur Enjolras hovering over her. Apparently, she had fallen against the side of the carriage during her little nap.

"Are you alright, Mademoiselle?" he asked, concerned.

"Yes, Monsieur, I'm fine," she said quietly, brushing down the front of her dress and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "I merely fell asleep."

"Alright," he said, sitting back in his seat. "We're nearly at Lord Dunham's townhome. You may need to prepare yourself, his wife is quite critical."

"Thank you for the warning, Monsieur, but I will be fine."

Monsieur Enjolras eyed her curiously. "Good. Have you ever been to a dinner party before?"

"Once. I went with a client," she closed her eyes, willing away the bile that crept up her throat. "However, it was not a kind of festivity one discusses in civilised conversation."

Monsieur Enjolras nodded, his eyes showing understanding. "Of course. Well, tonight will not be anything of the sort. You will stay with me all evening. I will be introducing you to some of my business contacts. I was planning on introducing you as my companion, unless that is not acceptable to you."

"It's fine," she said quickly. "It is your business how you introduce me."

Monsieur Enjolras nodded. The rest of the carriage ride was spent in relative silence. Eponine played with the hem of her skirt, dreading her reentrance into society.

The house was beautiful. It had terracotta-colored stone and a gray slate roof with perfectly landscaped grounds. Groups of carriages lined the long drive and Eponine could hear music wafting through the tall windows. The carriage stopped and the door opened. Monsieur Enjolras hopped out first, offering his arm for Eponine to take. She got out smoothly and looked around. A few couples were walking up from their own carriages, most of them looked friendly.

They entered the house, Eponine still gripping Monsieur Enjolras' arm. Eponine took a deep breath, taking in the loveliness that was this house. Hardwood floors and cream-coloured walls, rich dark draperies and golden sconces; it was breathtaking. The people, too, were exquisite. Women with tresses more fair than the sun piled high on their heads, with dresses made of the most expensive fabrics and jewels on their earlobes, collarbones, wrists and fingers. The men, too, were dressed in tasteful waistcoats and trousers, some wearing the garb of officers in the militia.

As they walked through the rooms, Eponine caught several stares headed her way. She blushed and kept her head down, clasping Monsieur's arm even tighter for support. He stopped suddenly. Eponine nearly tripped, her long skirt catching under her shoe. She straightened and looked ahead, schooling her features as she was taught to do as a child.

"Well, now, Enjolras," a strange man commented, standing up from a chair that had been placed on a raised dais. "She is a pretty one, isn't she?"

"She is my companion, Mademoiselle Eponine Thenardier," Monsieur Enjolras said tightly.

"Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle," the man smirked, bowing slightly, his accent strange.

Eponine looked at Monsieur Enjolras. He nodded slightly, telling her to copy the other man's gesture.

"The pleasure is mine, monsieur," she said quietly, curtsying as best she could remember from her brief lessons when she was young.

The man stood, a broad smile gracing his handsome face. "And polite, too! Why, Enjolras, we might need to have a switch, you and I. My Lady Victoria for your Mademoiselle Thenardier."

Monsieur Enjolras did not look amused. "Maybe some other time, Dunham."

"Perhaps," Dunham smirked, eyes raking over Eponine. "Perhaps."


	9. Chapter 9

Previously...

The man stood, a broad smile gracing his handsome face. "And polite, too! Why, Enjolras, we might need to have a switch, you and I. My Lady Victoria for your Mademoiselle Thenardier."

Monsieur Enjolras did not look amused. "Maybe some other time, Dunham."

"Perhaps," Dunham smirked, eyes raking over Eponine. "Perhaps."

Monsieur Enjolras gently put his hand on Eponine's waist, pulling her closer to his side. Eponine glanced down quickly, schooling her features to hide her surprise.

"Please, forgive us, Dunham, but Eponine was speaking earlier of her desire to sample your English dishes, and I hate to deny her that joy," Monsieur Enjolras said smoothly.

Dunham raised his eyebrow slightly. "Of course, Enjolras. Far be it from me to deny any lovely young lady their small joys." He smirked at Eponine, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it gently. "Enjoy, mademoiselle."

"Thank you," Eponine quipped, turning to walk with Monsieur.

With some distance between herself and Dunham, Eponine took a breath of relief. There was something about him that sickened her. He acted like a friend of her father's, instead of English nobility.

"Eponine," Enjolras whispered into her ear. "Come with me. I need to show you something."

Eponine nodded, following him as he led her into another room. It was empty and sparsely furnished, but the outer wall was almost purely windows and gave a great view of the back gardens of the estate. He released her, moving behind her to shut the doors.

Eponine turned, making sure she could always see him in front of her. He had been an extremely gracious host, and so kind, but old habits die hard. To her, closed doors were not good things.

"You said you had something to show me?" she asked quickly, filling the empty space with her quiet voice.

Enjolras looked past her to the windows. "Yes. Come here."

She went to his side, following his gaze to a small, dark shadow on the top of hill a distance away.

"What is it?" she asked.

"That," he said slowly, placing his hands on the window sill. "That, Eponine, is my new home."

Eponine looked at him, curious. "Oh?"

"I bought it from an elderly lord who wants to retire to Spain. It's a good size. Twenty four bedrooms, a library, and a ballroom and dining room for entertaining. It's lovely, really."

"What about the house in the country?"

"Of course, I will keep it. I may rent it out to one of the families living in the village or let the people turn it into an inn of sorts for the impoverished. I haven't quite decided yet."

"What of Madame Claire?"

"She will come to the new home with me."

Eponine looked down at her hands. "And me?"

Enjolras turned, facing her fully. "Eponine, if you are willing, I would love to have you here with me."

Eponine glanced up. "Of course, Monsieur."

Enjolras smiled, turning back to the window. "Wonderful. We will go there tonight after the party. You can choose your rooms and Madame Claire will bring your things when she comes in the morning. Until then, you can borrow a dress from Lady Victoria, unless you have any qualms?"

"No, of course not," Eponine piped up. "But only if she allows it."

"She is a very sweet woman. She will allow it."

They stood in silence for a moment.

"I apologize for Lord Dunham's behavior, Eponine."

"It's fine."

"No, it's not. I swear to you I wouldn't have brought you here if I had known."

"Monsieur, it's nothing I haven't heard before."

Enjolras' mouth tightened into a thin line. "I know. That is what distresses me."

Eponine sighed. "Don't worry for me, Monsieur. I can take care of myself."

Enjolras leaned against the windowsill, running a hand through his mane of blonde curls. "You shouldn't have to take care of yourself, Eponine."

"That is the way the world is, Monsieur. You must accept it."

Enjolras fixed her with a smoldering gaze. "No."

The doors to the room burst open. Lady Victoria swept through, her lovely skirt sweeping against the floor.

"Mademoiselle Eponine!" she exclaimed, coming closer. "I have been looking for you everywhere, darling! We must find you a dress or two to wear until your housekeeper comes with the rest of your things."

"Oh," Eponine stuttered. "Of course. If you'll excuse me, Monsieur."

Enjolras nodded, standing up to his full height and bowing slightly. Lady Victoria bounced forward and gripped Eponine's elbow, dragging her out of the room.

"I have the perfect thing!"

Enjolras stared after the pair for a long moment. He reached into his coat pocket, bringing out the folded note he had taken from Eponine earlier. He ran his thumb over the yellowed parchment, turning it over in his hand.

No, Eponine, he thought, returning the parchment back to his coat pocket. I won't accept it.


	10. Chapter 10

The dress was absolutely beautiful. That's all that Eponine could register. She couldn't remember ever seeing anything so lovely on anyone, and now it was on her. It was gold and flowy and had the most gorgeous little embellishments along the hem. She repressed the urge to twirl about like a girl. Madame Claire put a hand on Eponine's elbow.

"You look beautiful, my dear," the older woman said, a smile on her face.

"Thank you, Madame," Eponine smiled, biting her lower lip and gripping the sides of the dress between her fingers.

"Really, Eponine, you look marvelous! It looks much better on you than it ever did on me. It always emphasized my hips far too much, but on you it's just perfect!" Lady Victoria giggled, clapping her hands in glee. "You simply must take it with you to the new house. Enjolras will just love you in it! Look at you! You're a vision!"

"Thank you, Lady Victoria," Eponine smiled at the woman. "And you're so kind to offer, but I really can't accept it."

"Don't be ridiculous, darling," Lady Victoria bubbled. "I have too many dresses already and I've been meaning to get rid of a few of them. You're the perfect outlet!"

Eponine grew quiet, looking at her reflection again. "Thank you, Lady Victoria. It really is lovely."

"Of course, dear. Now, we must have Alexandra package this up with the other ones and messenger them over to the house so they'll be ready when you arrive."

Eponine nodded, stepping away from the mirror and untying the ribbon at the back. Madame Claire stepped up and began helping her unbutton the dress. Lady Victoria went and sat on a cushioned chair by the bed, chattering on about a woman from town who had done simply the most scandalous thing.

A maid knocked on the door, carrying a summons for Madame Claire.

Reading it, the old woman rolled her eyes, tucking the note into her pocket. "It seems that the servants at the new house do not know how to properly dress a bed. I must go. Goodbye, dear," she kissed Eponine's cheek and waved goodbye to Lady Victoria, walking out the door.

As the door shut, Lady Victoria pounced. "So, Eponine, I can call you Eponine, right? How is the infamous Monsieur Enjolras? The rumours of his prowess have traveled from Paris. No firsthand accounts, though, which is a shame. So?"

"Uh," Eponine stuttered. "I wouldn't know. I haven't been subject to his, er, prowess."

Lady Victoria gasped. "You're joking! With the way he looks at you, I was simply sure that..oh, nevermind. So, you're an innocent, then?"

Eponine turned quickly, eyes wide. "With all due respect, Madame, I don't think that particular piece of information is relevant to you."

Lady Victoria pouted. "Oh, come now, darling, I was only trying to get to know you better. Lord knows I'm not an innocent. I haven't been since I was seventeen. It was with a baron, my first husband. Oh, he was lovely. Bought me every little thing my heart desired. Even let me keep a lover or two on the side, as long as I was in his bed every night. And he died soon enough to leave me all of his fortune. So now I'm a free woman."

"But what about-"

"Dunham? He's a puppy, really. Flash him a little skin and whisper some soft little words in his ear and he's as docile as a baby."

"Docile isn't the word I would use."

"Oh, Eponine, he was only joking. He wouldn't dare trade me. I do things for him you couldn't dream of."

Eponine cocked an eyebrow, but kept her comment to herself.

"Excuse me, Lady Victoria, but I should be getting back to Monsieur Enjolras." With a quick curtsy, Eponine walked quickly out of the room.


End file.
